


you're a work of art and you don't even know it

by Jesse



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, but they both like art, i haven't slept in over twelve hours so AAAAAAAAAAAA, idk man like, maul's got Feelings and so does thrawn but they're both stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:47:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28773336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jesse/pseuds/Jesse
Summary: Maul invites Thrawn to Dathomir to look at his collection of oddities. There are some emotions.
Relationships: Darth Maul/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo
Comments: 16
Kudos: 42





	you're a work of art and you don't even know it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zennybb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zennybb/gifts).



> It's Zenny's fault for making good art.

The air is acrid and still. There’s a bitter tang that dries the mouth. And it’s warm, but the kind of warm that creeps under your skin itself, not just your clothing. You should shed every layer you’re wearing and would find no relief. Dathomir is a living place, but while things grow, the planet is dead. How things grow here, in such a vile environment, Thrawn does not know.

He stands there at the foot of the ramp, arms behind him, one hand gripping his wrist. He watches the zabrak walk ahead of him, heading directly to a large stone temple of sorts not too far from the ship. Looking back at Thrawn as if he expects him to follow.

Raising a brow ridge, Thrawn looks questioningly at Maul. “That is what you wanted to show me?”

“No, no,” Maul says, taking a few steps back towards Thrawn, “It’s what’s inside that I wish to show you. Things, many things that you, in particular, would take interest in.”

Exhaling long and slow, Thrawn silently starts walking after Maul, letting the temple’s shadow swallow them both. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Maul, because he very much does not, but he knows enough about the witches of Dathomir that it has given him enough reason to not ever come here. Just because they’re dead doesn’t mean that magic doesn’t linger in places like these. And while Thrawn is not a superstitious man, he is a smart one, and he makes a point to not trifle with magic that he does not understand.

Thrawn’s boots are quiet on the stone floor as he follows Maul, who makes louder noises with his robotic feet and with his uneven gait. It’s not quite a shuffle, but getting there. Thrawn knows that his legs must be in some state of disrepair, but it’s not his business. If Maul isn’t going to ask for help, Thrawn isn’t going to offer it.

The deeper into the temple they go, the more fascinated Thrawn becomes. His pace slows a little, taking a few extra moments to just look around. The temple is in a state of ruin and decay; Thrawn knows that the witches were eradicated during the Clone Wars, and all that time of no one being here to maintain the place has begun to show itself in numerous ways. There’s a lot that Thrawn would like to look at, but he knows that Maul didn’t bring him here to look at ruins, so he continues to follow him. Though, he’s not fond of how hotter and more humid it gets the deeper they go. The air is so thick Thrawn could choke on it. How Maul lives here in these conditions, he’ll never understand. And the smell.. Thrawn doesn’t even have the words to describe the way the place smells. But it’s not nice.

However, the smell and the uncomfortable atmosphere almost seems to dissolve and is forgotten as soon as Thrawn reaches where Maul is leading him. A small room in the back of the temple, crammed full of art, various relics and artifacts, and other such minutiae. Thrawn’s bright eyes widen slightly as he just tries to take it all in, and for a moment, his body loses its stiff, military posture as he turns around slowly, wanting to look at everything all at once before he starts looking at individual pieces. Maul stands off to the side, hands resting on the top of his cane, watching Thrawn’s expressions with the intensity of a small sun. Thrawn doesn’t have to look at Maul’s expression to know that while he’s nervous about having someone in his private space, he’s eager to show Thrawn his things. And that touches him, somehow. Somewhere deep down inside. He’ll put that in a little mental box to save for later.

Over on a small stand is a sword hilt of sorts. Thrawn knows exactly what weapon that is, and wordlessly reaches over to pick it up.

“Do not touch that,” Maul says from behind him, not making a move to stop him, but Thrawn knows he could if he wanted to. His hand hovers above the darksaber, fingers slightly curling as he weighs his options, and then withdraws his hand entirely. Staring at it for one more moment before turning back around. Maul gives him a small nod, perhaps as a silent thanks, which Thrawn notes.

He continues perusing Maul’s collection, taking particular interest in marred artwork of the late Duchess Satine of Mandalore, whom he knows Maul personally killed. He doesn’t talk about it, though. Maul never mentions anything in his past that he’s done. Everything Thrawn knows of it, he’s pieced together himself. Not out of necessity, but simply curiosity. Maul is somewhat of an enigma to him, and knowing just how close he once was to the emperor himself, Thrawn had made it his own personal project to unravel the little mystery that is Maul.

After some time, Thrawn eventually turns his attention to Maul, who is still standing there watching him with an eager little glint in his eyes. “Well?” he asks Thrawn, “What do you think?”

Thrawn gives a pointed glance around him, getting another quick peripheral before looking back at Maul once more. “It’s a bit of a messy collection,” he answers honestly, “Frankly I have a hard time deciphering what you consider art and what might simply be ruins or something for the garbage.”

“No need for flattery,” Maul says lowly, “I’ll admit my collections are.. unorthodox.”

“Unorthodox, perhaps,” Thrawn replies gently, “But still collections nonetheless. I quite like what you have here. You’ve clearly gone to great lengths to obtain some of these pieces.”

Maul slowly shuffles over to Thrawn’s side, standing up almost completely straight. “Some. But they were all necessary. I did what I had to in order to have them here.”

“I can appreciate that,” Thrawn nods, “I’ve gone through a few ordeals to have my own little gallery, myself.”

After that, Maul is quiet. He simply stands next to Thrawn, tattooed hands nervously wringing at the top of his cane. Nothing to say. For a man who always has something to say even when there’s nothing to be said, Thrawn is curious as to Maul’s silence. He glances down at him, trying not to pointedly stare. That would be rude.

“Something.. on your mind?” he asks.

Faded golden eyes blink as Maul stares straight ahead, his jaw set as if contemplating an answer, or refusing to give one. And then he sighs. “I do not ask people to come here,” he says, almost grinding the words through his teeth, “It feels.. not right, having someone in my space.”

“I’m sorry,” says Thrawn, blinking. “Would you prefer it if I leave?”

“No!” Maul blurts out, looking up at him, and then looking away again. “No.. I do not want that. I asked for you to come. You are my guest. I wanted you to be here, wanted you to see.”

Thrawn makes a soft “mmh” sound in the back of his throat, weighing his words before letting himself speak. “I’m pleased you invited me,” he says carefully, “Your collection is most fascinating, and I.. am honored that you wished to share it with me.”

Maul looks up at Thrawn out of the corner of his eye, looking away immediately after. “No one else would understand any of it,” he says quietly, his tone edged with a touch of bitterness, “No one else appreciates.. or knows how to look at it. No one.. except you.”

“A high compliment, coming from you,” says Thrawn, keeping his tone gentle. He notes that Maul’s hands are trembling from their resting position atop his cane, and coupled with Maul’s further silence, he knows that there’s a monsoon in the zabrak’s chest and drowning his mouth. He says nothing about it, but after a moment of deliberation, places a gentle hand on Maul’s shoulder, just some silent reassurance. Not something he’s used to doing, but.. for Maul, he can. Though, he’s not expecting the reaction he gets from it.

Maul’s cane falls to the floor with a clatter. A sound that echoes. And before anything about that can be processed, he’s all but folded himself against Thrawn’s chest, arms thrusted behind him and grabbing onto the back of his uniform. Holding onto the chiss like he’s the only thing left to tether him to the world.

“Oh..” Thrawn says softly, standing there completely motionless for a moment while he processes this. And then slowly, he brings one arm around behind Maul, careful. Resting gently against his lower back, his hand pressed lightly to the zabrak’s waist. Holding him like that. Letting Maul carefully rest his head against Thrawn’s chest, leaning enough to keep his horns from stabbing anything.

Thrawn just stands there, simply holding Maul where he stands, finding this to be so uncharacteristic of Maul that the only logical explanation is that he’s simply reached a breaking point. While Thrawn isn’t particularly equipped to deal with things like this, there is a sort of.. protective instinct deep inside his chest, knowing that Maul is trusting Thrawn to see him so vulnerable like this. He finds it quite brave of him, in a way.

Carefully, he brings up his other arm, resting it gently on the side of Maul’s head, and just letting him silently know that this is okay. It’s okay. 

His thumb idly rubs one of Maul’s small horns.

They can stay like this for awhile. It’s okay.  
  


—

Artwork by [Zennybb](https://twitter.com/Zennybb/status/1349956881129877506)


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